


Don't Dream It's Over

by gaywoods (colbee)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Game of Thrones-esque, King Gavin, M/M, Slow Burn, geovin is in this for like a chapter, king AU, lowkey minecraft au, simply bc there is not enough of that!, this fic was named "definitely not a song of ice and fire", this is really its on entity tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-09 13:09:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7803160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colbee/pseuds/gaywoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>tradition<br/>trəˈdɪʃ(ə)n/<br/>noun<br/>1.<br/>the transmission of customs or beliefs from generation to generation, or the fact of being passed on in this way.</p><p>A king is guided by his traditions. They are what make him a great ruler, loved or not. It's what makes Gavin want to not follow them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> oh boy here it is. 
> 
> this is my very first fic for rtah and im sort of terrified at how this is gunna go!! 
> 
> this takes some inspiration from a song of ice and fire by george r.r. martin and some of the minecraft lore, but otherwise it is its own thing.
> 
> this fic is dedicated to milo for giving me this idea in the first place and being one of the best friends ive had in a long time. this is all for you, b.
> 
> shout outs to my three editors, all who helped me so much in the creation of this monster. double shout out to one of them who knows absolutely nothing about rtah.
> 
> you can find me on tumblr at gaywood.tumblr.com, where this will also be posted! chapter will hopefully be posted every one to two weeks, but no promises!

_ Age 8 _

 

The throne room was warm, with the windows open to let the soft summers wind through. Gavin sat next to his father, painfully uncomfortable. His tunic was too tight, and the thickness of the fabric made him sweat. His father didn’t look the least bit fazed, even in his thick silks and his cape clasped tightly beneath his chin. 

 

“You’re slouching,” his father said, turning to him.

 

“No one is here yet,” Gavin mumbled, but straightened his shoulders anyway. His father didn’t smile, but his eyes were gentle.

 

“No, but they’ll be arriving any minute, and you are the heir. You must make a good impression,” his father replied. His eyes were shining. Gavin rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms. It pulled his tunic tighter across him, clinging to his already sweaty skin. 

 

“Why do I even need to meet knights in training, anyway?” Gavin asked. His chair was uncomfortable, despite the goose-down pillows he sat on. He shifted closer to his father. “They’re all the same; sons from some highborn houses of the kingdom, innit?”

 

His father sighed. “It’s an honor for many houses to have their sons become a guard for a prince,” His voice had laughter in it. “It’s a big deal.” Gavin uncrossed his arms, and the warm wind ruffled his hair slightly from the open window above him. 

 

The horn to announce guests ran out, and Gavin’s father straightened, his golden crown glinting in the sunlight. The guards around the hall straightened to attention also. Lords of the other houses came into the room and stood before the throne. Gavin stayed seated as his father rose to greet them all.

 

“Friends,” he said, voice loud and clear. All the lords, ladies and their sons bowed their heads. “Welcome, and thank you for travelling as many leagues as you did to come present your sons. I am sure your prince will be very pleased with your choices.”

 

Gavin was anything but. He hated being in the throne room, he hated sitting upon the chair, he hated the weight of his circlet around his temples, and he hated knowing that one day he would be standing where his father stood, greeting the lords of their bannermen and ruling a kingdom. He was sweaty, he was bothered, and he was bored. He wanted to go back to the gardens, or into the wierwood a league or two away from the castle walls. 

 

Instead, he followed along with his father’s instructions. Greet the lords, greet their sons, listen to the lords talk about their sons, and then confer with his father. There were only five houses to choose from, and Gavin needed to choose two guards. He’d complained that he was too young to chose someone to guard him, especially if he never left the castle and that the king’s guard would always be around to watch him. Of course, his father told him it was the royal tradition to choose two guards, close in age, who would follow the heir to the throne their entire lives. It kept bonds between the houses strong, and ensured that the royal family would have a knight guard they could trust.

 

The families that came today were the Free’s oldest and strongest bannerman, the family of men who stood side by side with the Free king centuries ago in the great wars, the ancestors of sons and daughters married to the kings and queens, the men who have always served them loyally. 

 

Gavin became more and more stressed about his decision with each lord he spoke too. Lord Gibson presented his son, Blaine, who was eleven and already seemed like a man grown. His father said he could take down grown knights of the Gibson holdfast. Gavin was convinced he wasn’t lying. 

 

He met Lord and Lady Pattillo, and they introduced their son, Jack. Jack was the oldest by far, a man grown at sixteen. He was tall, almost as tall as Gavin’s father, with a slight dusting of facial hair. Lady Pattillo spoke about how well-read Jack was, and Lord Pattillo spoke of his gift with a greatsword. Jack himself was just smiling kindly, his eyes soft with understanding.

 

Next, Lord Bragg brought forward his son Matt. Matt was also eleven, with long hair hanging in his eyes. As his father spoke of his training as a knight, Matt looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. Gavin agreed with him.

 

The acting lord of the Demarais house presented his younger brother, Chris. He apologised for his father’s absence, as he had fallen ill and his mother had stayed behind with him. He said that Chris had only just began his training, but was skilled in healing as he had sat with his father as he got sicker.

 

Lastly, he met Lady Haywood. She brought forward her son, Ryan. She talked at length about his training, and how he was one of the best hunters the Haywood house had ever seen. Lady Haywood had a very commanding presence, and Gavin felt compelled to seem older than he was around her and her son. When Lady Haywood announced that Ryan was only ten, Gavin couldn’t keep his surprise silent.

 

“What?” he practically squawked, eyes wide. “He-- You-- What?!” At his outburst, Ryan laughed softly. Gavin stared at him openly, and Ryan continued to laugh. He had a really pleasant laugh. 

 

When he sat with his father in the small drawing room, he really felt like a child.

 

“It was hard, I know,” his father said. He was smiling now, and without his crown on he looked like any normal father would.

 

“Impossible,” Gavin proclaimed, spreading his hands. “And you had to do that?

 

“I did,” his father placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “and I got two men who became my best friends, and I have never trusted any man more than I have trusted them. Other than you of course.”

 

Gavin flushed under the praise. “I’m not a man yet, Father,” he said, leaning into his hand. 

 

“Not in age,” his father said. “but after what I saw today, you are far wiser than any other boy your age.”

 

Gavin smiled. “I made my decision, Father. Patillo and Haywood.”

 

His father beamed.

  
  


 

_ Age 16 _

 

The snow continued to fall for the entirety of the last day of Gavin’s nameday celebrations. The feasting hall was filled with guests, lords and ladies, servants and fools, and plates piled with food. A travelling singer sat with a small band, singing jovially as people ate and laughed. The king sat at the head of the table, goblet in hand and a smile on his face as he listened to a joke of a neighbouring king. The seat on his right hand side had remained empty nearly all day.

 

Gavin hadn’t left his quarters. He was dressed in his silks, a deep green with his family insignia embroidered onto his breast in a chrome-like thread. His new crown sat on his drawers, all but ignored. He was sitting on his bed, fingers drumming nervously on the white wolf pelts laid out for the winters. He watched the fire dance, ignoring the faint noise of festivities from the hall.

 

There was a knock at his door. Gavin jumped at the noise, and then stood. He flattened his clothes, and then attempted to flatten his hair. He opened the door, and the two people who stood outside entered.

 

“We haven’t see you all day, Gavin,” Jack said, closing the door gently behind him. His beard was oiled down slightly, and today he was favouring his spectacles. He wore a dyed leather tunic, which also had the Free house insignia on it. He wasn’t wearing armor or carrying his greatsword, but Gavin knew he was armed. “Are you feeling well?”

“Yes,” Gavin lied smoothly. He was a man grown now, and the only heir to the Free throne. He wasn’t allowed to show nervousness around large groups of people. “I was just readying myself.”

 

“Don’t lie to us, Gavin, we know you better than that,” said Ryan softly, from where he stood. Gavin looked at him, and had to avert his eyes quickly. Ryan had grown tall, taller than Gavin. He had started wearing his hair long recently, and took to tying it back in a low ponytail, although some hair still fell into his eyes. He, like Jack, was not wearing his armor, and Gavin could see the hilt of his dagger. 

 

“Alright,” Gavin sighed. “I… Really don’t want to be around those people.” 

 

Jack clasped his shoulder. “This is a celebration for you. Those people are here for you.”

 

“The people thing is more Father’s job,” Gavin mumbled. “There’s… Too many.”

 

Ryan came over, and stood next to Jack. “We’ll be with you, like always.”

 

Like always. Like when a few moons ago, the three of them had travelled to the wierwood for Ryan’s eighteenth name day. There were many stories of the wierwood; of the reanimated skeletons of men who died too young, who hunted anyone who got too close with archery skills that surpassed any living man; spiders as large as houses whose venom was so potent you’d be dead before you knew you’d been bitten; to the stories of bears who trapped and laid with men, creating children so gruesome and monstrous that the gods had abandoned them and that left the wierwood to themselves.

 

Of course, while they were there they saw none of those things, but it didn’t mean Gavin hadn’t of been scared. He’d held Ryan’s hand tightly as Jack scouted ahead of them, leading the way. Ryan had squeezed his hand reassuringly. Gavin knew he was safe then.

 

Or when they were younger, just after Gavin had chosen them. When they had both accompanied him to tutoring, and had stayed up many nights helping Gavin lose the thickness of his accent in place of something more proper. Of course, it hadn’t worked at all. Afterwards, they would run the halls of the castle, hiding in watchtowers and climbing the walls to lie on the stone roofs, laughing as they went.

 

Like when Gavin had gotten permission to go walk through the marketplace, and three boys around his age had robbed him. Ryan and Jack did chase the boys down and retrieved Gavin’s stolen items, and they supported him home and stayed with him whilst he worked through his shock. 

 

Gavin nodded. “Like always,” he agreed. He removed himself from Jack’s grip, and settled the crown on his hair. He definitely wasn’t his father. He still had fear, and he didn’t expect he would be a very good ruler. “Then I believe I need an escort.”

 

“Your Grace,” Jack nodded, smile broad. Ryan stared at him for a while, face unreadable. He then smiled too, and opened the door. Gavin stood in between them both as they walked towards the hall. They didn’t say anything to each other, but Gavin didn’t feel like a child between them anymore. He looped both his arms through theirs, and grinned as he relaxed.

 

When they arrived in the feasting hall, many guests bowed their heads and congratulated him on his becoming a man. Ryan and Jack had to leave him and stand with the rest of his father’s knight guard, so Gavin walked up to his father.

 

“Gavin!” His father grasped both of his shoulders and pulled him into a very public hug. He smelt of wine, but Gavin enjoyed the embrace nonetheless. “Son, I was afraid you were not going to join us!”

 

“‘Course I was going to join,” Gavin said, stepping back. “I couldn’t miss my own nameday feast!” His father pushed a goblet of wine into his hands, and beamed.

 

“Oh! Before I forget,” his father said. “Geoff Ramsey is outside in the snow. You may want to retrieve him before the winters freeze him.”

 

Gavin grinned. He and Geoff had been close as younger boys. Geoff had been his father’s ward for three years before his sixteenth nameday, whilst his own father fought in a war. His mother had died during childbirth, much like Gavin’s own. Geoff was three years younger than Jack, and had always treated Gavin as his younger brother. It had been nearly six years since Gavin had seen Geoff last, and he was excited to finally have a chance to talk to him. 

 

He headed towards the oak doors that led out to a courtyard. The snow was thick on the ground, and it shimmered despite the lack of moonlight. He spied Geoff, who was sitting on a bench that he had cleared of snow, and sat next to him.

 

“Oh, is that for me?” Geoff asked when he looked over with a lazy smile. He reached out and took Gavin’s goblet and drank the wine.

 

Gavin squawked indignantly and he tried to tackle Geoff to get his goblet back, but to no avail. “Real bloody charming Geoff!”

“I need it more than you, buddy,” Geoff said, handing the now empty goblet back.

 

“Why?” Gavin leaned close to him, shivering. He wasn’t wearing a cape, and so he was feeling the winters chill. Geoff wrapped his arm around his shoulder. 

 

“Our fathers have been talking,” he said, rubbing his hand up and down Gavin’s arm. “They wish to completely combine our kingdoms. It’s not enough that they’re best friends, obviously.”   
  


Gavin pressed into his side, trying to keep warm. “Our fathers always talk of things like that, Geoff.”

 

“My father believes it would be a good idea for us to marry,” Geoff said. He had tensed, obviously expecting some sort of fumbled outburst from Gavin.

 

“Well that’s not gonna happen,” Gavin said simply. “Once the wine leaves our father’s systems, they won’t even remember the discussion.”

 

Geoff didn’t reply for a while. He continued to rub Gavin’s arm, until he said softly, “I wouldn’t mind though. If it had to be anyone, ”

 

“I know,” Gavin said. “but it won’t have to be,”

 

They sat there a while longer until the cold became unbearable. They went inside, and wandered back to their father’s. Gavin had arrived at the feast just in time for the final course, and when he sat to eat, he met Ryan’s eyes from across the hall. Ryan smiled softly at him, and inclined his head slightly. Gavin grinned back, and raised his newly filled goblet in his direction.

 

He ignored how his heart was fluttering.

  
  


 

_ Age 23 _

 

Gavin hated thunderstorms. They kept him trapped within the castle walls, and that meant he had to face responsibilities. It wasn’t that he was lazy; there were just some certain responsibilities he couldn’t bring himself to face.

 

The rain ran down the window he sat by, and occasionally the lightning would illuminate the world outside. This storm showed no signs of stopping, and Gavin had sat so long in the one spot that he was stiff and sore. 

 

“Your Grace?” It was Jack speaking to him. Gavin hardly acknowledged his voice, and continues counting the raindrops on the window. He was somewhere around the five thousand mark now. “Gavin… He’s asking to see you.”

 

_ Five thousand and eight, five thousand and nine… _

 

“Wonderful,” Gavin said absentmindedly. The world outside lit up again, and the rippling crack of thunder followed almost simultaneously. 

 

“Gavin,” Jack was trying to keep his voice from wavering. “I don’t know what else to tell him.”

 

_ Five thousand and thirteen, five thousand and fourteen… _

 

“Alright,” Gavin replied, voice soft. His hands shook. He swallowed, inhaled deeply and continued to count. At some point Jack left, and the rain got harder. 

 

_ Five thousand and fifty, five thousand and fifty-one… _

 

Someone took his hands. Squeezed them as they shook. Turned his face away from the window. 

 

“You need to go to him,” Ryan’s voice was gentle, his eyes sad and so, so blue. He hadn’t shaved recently. None of them had. “He needs you right now, Gavin.”

 

“I can’t,” Gavin said, his voice breaking. Ryan was still holding his hands and his chin.

 

“Be strong, okay?” Ryan squeezed his hands, just like always. “You know you need him too.”

 

Gavin let himself be taken from the room. Ryan kept holding his hand as he led the way.

 

_____________

 

Two healers stood by his father’s bed, one holding a goblet of water and the other a dish of dark liquid; creamed rose, to ease the suffering. They both stepped away when Gavin approached, and bowed their heads respectively. 

 

“Gavin…” his father’s voice was raspy, weak. It was like someone had replaced the father Gavin had known. “You came…”

 

Gavin removed his hand from Ryan’s grasp, where it had still been held. Instead, he took his father’s and knelt. “You asked for me.”

 

A wet, hacking cough bursted from his father’s pale body; pink spittle escaping from the corner of his mouth. Each cough made Gavin flinch, but he refused to let his father’s hand go. 

 

When it was over, his father turned to face him completely. “Son, I have… Several apologies…”

 

“Father…”

 

“I did not expect… To be leaving you so soon,” his father continued as if Gavin hadn’t spoken. “This… Was not what I wanted for you…”

 

“Father,” Gavin reached up and brushed some hair from his father’s sweaty forehead. “Hunting accidents happen often. You’ll recover…”

 

“No one recovers from a bear attack,” his father advised, a ghost of a smile on his lips. 

 

“I’m not ready,” Gavin said, and there was a hint of a plea in his voice. He wasn’t ready to rule, and he wasn’t ready to be rid of his father’s voice, comfort and wisdom.

 

“I know,” his father’s voice was soft. “but I know you are fit to rule.”

 

Gavin had nothing to reply to that. Instead, he leaned his head onto the mattress of the bed, and held his father’s hand still as he drifted to sleep. Ryan touched his shoulder some time later, and Gavin turned to look up at him.

 

“You need rest, Gavin,” he urged. “and the healers need to work.” 

  
He waited as Gavin stood and kissed his father’s forehead. They left together, and Gavin remained silent.

 

His father didn’t wake.

 

_____________

 

The arrangements for the funeral went quickly, and after three nights and three days of the king lying in the godshome, perfumed in summerblooms to hide the smell, the funeral day arrived. The kingdom’s bannermen arrived first, in their mourning garb. They looked like a black sea, slow and silent. Ryan and Jack saw their families again. Gavin remained in his room.

 

Both of the neighbouring kings had been told of the Free king’s passing, but only one arrived. Geoff and his party came the day before the ceremony. He had an ebony pin of the Free insignia fastened above his heart, and his father’s wedding ring on his middle finger, tradition for newly crowned kings. He wasn’t surprised when Gavin wasn’t there to greet him.

 

The funeral ceremony itself was the only time Gavin was seen. He stood with the gods speaker, as per tradition. He walked at the front of the funeral procession, as per tradition. He lit the funeral pyre; and didn’t once shed a tear. As per tradition.

 

After the ceremony concluded, Gavin took his father’s ashes to the crypts and lay them on the stone with his father’s name engraved in neat lines, right next to that of his mother. In front of the urn, Gavin laid down the greatsword that once belonged to his father. 

 

He slipped the king’s ring onto his middle finger. He bowed his head, took a minute to regulate his breathing; and then finally, he left. 

 

_____________

 

He didn’t go to the feast, as he had no appetite to hear condolences, nor an appetite for food. He walked right to the guest quarters, and knocked on the door with the Ramsey guards outside it. 

 

“Gav,” Geoff said when he opened the door. His eyes were red, but understanding. Gavin knew he would be. 

 

“Can I come in, please?” he asked. Geoff stared at him for a moment, and told his guards to go to the feast. When they left, Gavin stepped in and shut the door behind him.

 

“Why are you not at the feast?” Geoff went over to his drawers, and poured some wine from the crystal decanter into a goblet. 

 

“Why aren’t you?” Gavin challenged. “I just burned my father, what’s your excuse?” His voice cracked, and he looked away, gazing at the tapestry hanging from the the wall.

 

Geoff took a sip of his wine. “I have none,” he replied. “In fact, I was hoping you’d come see me.” That made Gavin look at him again.

 

“I needed to,” Gavin walked over, and took the goblet from Geoff’s grasp. He drained it, and handed it back empty. “because right now you’re all I’ve got.”

 

Geoff took the goblet, and then continued to hold Gavin’s hand. “I understand what you’re going through, Gavin.” He turned and put the goblet down, and pulled Gavin closer to him. He was right. King Ramsey had taken ill seven moons previously, and he had passed on slowly. Gavin had comforted him as he had wept in the gardens the day of his funeral, and accompanied him to his quarters to help him with sleep. It’s why he was here now, to be comforted himself.

 

The only light in the room was from Geoff’s dying fire. The warmth was fading along with the light, and it was raining again. Geoff’s hand was a warmth against how cold his body felt, giving him the strength he needed.

 

Gavin forgot all of those things when Geoff kissed him. Or when he kissed Geoff. He forgot how to breathe momentarily as they found comfort on Geoff’s bed; and he almost forgot his own name as Geoff touched him and was only reminded when Geoff sighed it. He was completely lost in the movements of Geoff’s hands, the sweetness and love in the touch. He almost forgot everything but the one thing he wanted to forget.

 

_____________

 

They both slumped onto the bed, their chests pumping from their fast beating hearts; their breaths heavy; laying together in the dead light. The bedding was messy, and Gavin’s legs were tangled with Geoff’s. The rain continued.

 

“We can’t do that again,” Geoff said, kissing Gavin’s forehead. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Gavin replied, closing his eyes as Geoff drew shapes on his hipbone. “I know that.”

_____________

 

“...And now he rises as His Majesty Gavin Free, Protector of the Realms and King of Raleiles.”


	2. I

_ Age 25 - Present Day _

 

Being king wasn’t very exciting. It meant days sitting in an uncomfortable chair, discussing passing of laws, helping the people of the commons, and keeping kingdoms from falling into war and ruin. 

 

It meant following tradition after tradition laid out by the ancient and dead kings of the realms that were laid out in the days following the Long War, after the Free family was named the Protector of the Realms. These traditions reflected the times, and none of the past kings had tried to change them. 

 

These traditions bored Gavin to tears. He was slumped in the throne, tapping his fingers rhythmically against the ironwood. The throne room was expansive, and the soaring ceilings made Gavin dizzy if he looked up, so he rarely did. Eight large pillars of dark polished marble, four on each side of the room, led the way towards the throne. The throne sat raised from the floor, and remained bathed in the light of the windows that were above it, the only thing illuminated by the sun in the entire hall. The throne itself was carved into a trunk of a six-thousand year old ironwood, the roots turned towards the sun and knotted together. Banners of the Free house hung from the walls, heavy velvet and glistening silk. 

 

He had been watching the light of the sunset cast patterns along Ryan’s armor from where he stood three steps below the throne, when one of his councillors came into the room.

 

“Your Grace,” he said with a bow. “The day ends. Shall the servants prepare dinner?”

 

Same old words, heard every sunset. “Please,” Gavin sighed, stretching his back and standing. “Thanks, Kerry.” 

 

Kerry bowed again, and Gavin made his way down the steps. Jack and Ryan fell into line beside him as he walked past them. They walked the length of the throne room in silence, and not a word was spoken until the throne room doors had been shut behind them.

 

“Fun day?” Jack asked, voice low. Gavin groaned.

 

“Of course not,” Gavin replied, making him laugh. Jack had grown well, with his beard well trimmed and long, and his body muscular and strong. He had proved to be a loyal knight guard, and an even better confidant and friend. Gavin trusted him with his life.

 

“That attitude will get you far,” Ryan commented, a small smile on his lips. “as did the idea of letting the small council run the realms for you did.” 

 

When he was first crowned, Gavin hadn’t wanted to sit on the throne at all and was going to ask his small council to act in his place. Of course, the logic of Ryan and Jack could not be contested, and when he was told that him not sitting on the throne would be seen as a weakness he, begrudgingly of course, took his place and ruled.

 

Gavin rolled his eyes and gently shoved Ryan. He got one right back, but it was a lot harder than the one he gave and he fell into Jack, who laughed again. He spluttered as he regained his balance.

 

“Oh-- wh-- Ryan!” he squawked, as Jack continued to laugh beside him. Ryan laughed too, his face brightening in the darkening hall.

 

If Jack had grown well, Ryan was even more impressive. His hair had grown longer and was tied in his common ponytail at the base of his skull, and his face was clean-shaven. He fought silently and efficiently, with a grace that none of the other knight guard could wish to achieve. He was loyal, and he was fierce. 

 

But he was also humorous, and sometimes he had trouble pronouncing words, whether they were simple or not, and he was gentle and knew what to say when Gavin needed help or advice. Sometimes, it hurt Gavin to look at him.

 

“You brought it upon yourself,” Ryan commented, his smile wicked. Gavin fixed his crown instead of answering, and Jack clapped him on the shoulder.

 

“He is a better fighter than you, Gavin,” Jack said, grinning down at his king. “It would be in your best interests not to fight him.”

 

Gavin rolled his eyes. “Thank you for your valuable council, Jack.” His tone of voice was petty, sulking even, but he was having trouble hiding his own smile. He felt like the young prince again, without worries or responsibilities. Just him and his best friends, lurking in the castle halls and laughing about some inane thing.

 

Of course, that feeling faded when they entered the dining hall. The hall was built in a similar fashion to the throne room, but instead of eight pillars there were four, and there were large windows along the walls, instead of stone and banner. The torches had been lit, and the serving staff were standing in a straight line parallel to the table. He had stopped requesting that he had his meals in the king’s quarters, as the requests were ignored. Another tradition. 

 

“Have a good meal, your Grace,” Kerry said as he entered. That man had an ability to move like Gavin had never seen before. “Are your knight guard eating with you tonight?”

 

“Of course they are, Kerry,” Gavin replied. Kerry nodded with a smile, and lead the three to the table. Once they were seated, the serving staff began filling the plates. 

 

“They have certainly outdone themselves tonight,” Jack murmured, accepting the goblet of sweetened wine handed to him by a server. And he wasn’t wrong; the meal was roasted duck in a bed of greens and potatoes, coupled with sweetened wine and honeyed fruit sauce. Gavin made a noise of agreement, gazing at the platters on the table. His began tapping his fingers on the table, his ring glinting on his finger.

 

“Kerry,” he said, looking up as the serving staff departed. His fingers stopped moving. “Take any leftovers to the people of the commons. The orphanage has started running low again, and they recently took in a new infant and milker.”

 

Kerry looked slightly taken aback. “Your Grace--”

 

“That is a command from your king,” Gavin said, voice firm. “We will not eat more after this. This food is for the people of the commons.”

 

It was a few seconds before Kerry answered. “Of course, your Grace. As my lord commands it.”

 

They resumed eating in silence, or rather Gavin did. He knew the looks Ryan and Jack were given each other. He placed down his silverware.

 

“That was an odd request,” Jack said almost immediately, voice filled with concern. “Are you sure that was the right move of action?”

 

Gavin turned to him. “They’re my people,” he said. “Those are  _ children _ who are starving, Jack. They don’t have what we do; money, food, warmth… They need something down there. The summers sun will ruin them, and I dread to think about the oncoming winters.”

 

“I think you made the right decision,” Ryan said from Gavin’s other side. “That might have been your first real choice as king.” He meant it as a joke, but his voice was serious. Gavin snorted.

 

“I won’t deny it wasn’t a good idea!” Jack said hurriedly. “But your father was a stickler for tradition--”

 

“Please don’t mention our late king,” Gavin said, voice a trifle cooler as he sat up straighter. “and I do value your council, both of you, but sometimes we need to break away from traditions. As the Protector of the Realms, I actually need to  _ protect _ the realms.”

 

Ryan laid his hand over Gavin’s, touching the ring on his middle finger. “As much as we joke around with your past rulings, you already have proven that,” he said. “A break from tradition is a good thing.” He looked up at Jack as he said that, and Jack sighed.

 

“Apologies,” he said, and Gavin relaxed. He placed a hand on his shoulder.

 

“S’fine,” Gavin said calmly, starting to smile. He returned to his food. “I understand.”

 

_____________

 

The summers heat came over Raleiles slowly, and as it did more and more of the leftovers from the castle went to the people of the commons. Sometimes Gavin snuck out to give whole legs of ham or a side of cow to the first family he saw. During these times, he was robbed more often, but he had long since stopped caring, and never reported them to his small council or his knight guard.

 

Tonight was one of those nights. 

 

The sun had finally set and had shrouded the cobblestone walkways in darkness as Gavin walked through the streets. He had a dark hood over his hair, and he held a sack with some lamb inside close to his body. Very few people stayed out in the temperatures, but Gavin knew there would be someone. There was always someone.

 

Some of the cobblestone beneath Gavin’s feet was loose and crumbling away, leaving small but dangerous pits in the path. Some of the stone buildings were falling apart. The lower through the city you walked, the worse the evidence of squalor became. 

 

Somewhere along the path, an infant cried. Gavin made his way towards the noise, and found himself standing in front of a young girl, no older than seven, holding the crying babe. Her hair was dark and shaggy, hanging in her eyes and in knots over her shoulders. Gavin dropped his hood and knelt before her, making her look up as she tried to quiet the noise. Her eyes were tired, and a very dark brown which the moonlight hardly brightened.

 

“Where’s your mother?” he asked softly.

 

“Sick,” the girl said, blinking owlishly. “I needed to take my brother out for air because he kept crying but he hasn’t stopped.”

 

Gavin shifted and brought his sack forward. “When was the last time you ate?”

 

“Two… Three days ago? Father left to go trade and Mother is too sick to feed us,” she said softly, then tried to shush the still crying child. This girl clearly had no idea who Gavin was, which he appreciated. As much as he felt good giving food to his people, he rathered that word didn’t spread of his personal visits. 

 

“Take this,” he said, putting the bag at her feet. The little girl blinked, and amazingly held the babe in one arm as she leant forward to look at the contents of the bag. “It’s weird, innit? Some strange man dumping a sack of meat in front of you.”

 

When she looked up at him, the little girl’s eyes lit up. “Meat?” she shifted, and looked into Gavin’s eyes for a moment. “Can you hold him?” she asked, holding her baby brother out to him. 

 

The question shocked Gavin, but he took the baby into his arms. As he did, the cries stopped and the babe gazed up at Gavin with watery eyes. Gavin looked down at him, and then back at the child who was looking through the sack. He was sure this would have looked odd to a passerby; the king crouched in a dilapidated street, holding a baby in his arms and smiling as a child dug through a bag. 

 

“Thank you,” the little girl exhaled, looking up at Gavin again. She stood, and held the bag of meat with an exceptional strength for a girl of her age. She then held her arm out for her brother. Gavin, still on his knees, handed him back. The baby didn’t start crying again, but just turned his head and looked at Gavin with eyes that seemed far too knowing. “We’ll remember this.”

 

Gavin smiled, and stood. “Here,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small leather coin bag. He shook it, and the girl watched it with eyes impossibly wide. “He’ll need a milker.” He opened the sack and placed the coin bag inside.

 

If the girl hadn’t of had full hands, Gavin knew she would’ve hugged him. Instead, she smiled dazzlingly at him and turned away, walking down the street and out of sight. Gavin stood there as the heat became overpowering. He then put his hood back over his hair and walked towards the castle. 

 

_____________

 

He took his time returning to the castle. The moon was now high in the sky, full and bright. The summers heat wasn’t fading, and the cobblestone streets were quiet and empty.

 

For once, Gavin didn’t feel like the king. He felt, lack of a better word, free. No knight guard, no small council, no court. Just himself and the streets.

 

As he was circling a street near the southern gate, he wished he did have his knight guard with him. Someone had an arm around his mouth and another around his hip. Gavin cried out on impulse, and winced in pain when his attacker pushed him against the wall. His hood fell away from his eyes as the hand moved away from his mouth.

 

“I have no coin,” was what he gasped. “It’s all gone!”

 

“I don’t want your coin,” was the answer. Gavin’s eyes widened as he recognised the voice.

 

“ _ Ryan _ ?” he said incredulously. “You absolute bloody mingepot! What the  _ hell _ was that?” He broke away from his knight guards already relaxing grip. 

 

“An ambush?” Ryan supplied, stepping back and looking pointedly at Gavin. Gavin attempted not to look petulant.

 

“You’re supposed to  _ guard  _ me, not scare my last five namedays away!”

 

“I would guard you, but you have been continuing these trips alone so it makes it kind of hard to do so,” he pointed out, and Gavin crossed his arms. “Don’t think Jack and I haven’t noticed your empty bed and your failed attempts at sneaking back in.”

 

Gavin pulled a face. “I have the grace of a waterdancer,” he muttered, glancing away. Ryan may have stepped away from him but he was still close enough that Gavin could hear his soft breaths. His heart rattled in his chest at the proximity, no longer from the shock. 

 

Ryan chuckled. “You wish,” he said. “Did you deliver it, then?”

 

“How’d you know what I was doing?” Gavin asked, eyes fixed on the ground. 

 

“Not only leftovers, but meat from the lower stores have been going missing and with the amount of gold coin you seem to be losing, it wasn’t hard to connect the dots,” Ryan’s voice was light, playful even. Gavin relaxed; Ryan always supported his decisions. “but you could’ve confided in us. We would’ve helped.”

 

“I’m not in any danger,” Gavin said, looking up. “Plus, being alone keeps my identity hidden from those who are young or do not populate the courts. Having two armed knight guard would look suss.”

 

Ryan didn’t look convinced. “I’ll support you helping them, but please inform Jack or myself next time. I would rather not wake one day to find your body lying somewhere in the lower reaches.”

 

Gavin rolled his eyes. “Alright, mother hen. Do I have a curfew?”

 

“Yes,” Ryan said. “You’ve stayed out far past it.” 

 

Gavin didn’t laugh, but he wasn’t mad that Ryan had found him. He was actually glad someone else knew. The traditions of past kings suffocated the castle, and Gavin was trying his hardest to break away slowly, one tendril at a time. “Are you taking me back, then?”

 

“If it pleases your Grace,” Ryan smirked, and the moonlight caught his eye and Gavin felt slightly lost.  _ It does please him. Oh gods, it does. _

 

He wasn’t lost for long, though. He nodded and pulled his hood back over his eyes. He doubted anyone had heard their conversation but he didn’t want to risk being seen. They walked back through the southern gate in silence. The two knight guard standing there greeted Ryan, and Gavin smiled at one of their voices. 

 

Before, if a king died it was expected that the two men as his main knight guard would die with him. If not killed in battle, then slain at the base of the godshome as the king was laid. As a king dies, so does their vow. It was a barbaric act, one he hoped his father would not let happen. Unfortunately, one of his fathers men had died before the king, and Gavin gave the other a choice; return to his family or guard the walls. He chose the latter.

 

Gavin wanted to reply, but Ryan moved him on before he could. “It’s best that you don’t let the rest of the guard know you are sneaking out at night, otherwise you will have them all backing you whilst you walk.”

 

“I hate it when you’re right,” Gavin replied, taking his hood off once they entered the courtyard. 

 

“You must hate me often, then.” Ryan commented, looking down at him. Gavin elbowed him, and he laughed. The torches were burning low, the soft light dancing through Ryan’s hair and shine to his skin. Gavin drank it in, and then sighed.

 

“I’ll make my way to my chambers alone,” 

 

“I trust you not to leave again,” Ryan grasped his forearm in his hand, and Gavin mimicked. “Goodnight, your Grace.”

 

Gavin’s skin flared beneath the cloak. “Goodnight, sir.” Their hands remained for a moment longer than courtesy required, before Gavin cleared his throat and walked in the direction to his quarters.

 

_____________

  
  


Ryan exhaled when he lost sight of Gavin, his heart beating hard in his chest from their contact and the happenings of the night. It had been a long time since Gavin had been fearful of walking the commons, but Ryan was still worried about his king. Gavin had always informed he and Jack of where he was going, and usually demanded they accompanied him. Now…

 

It was true Gavin had changed in his short reign. He was still easy-going, but was more closed off and reserved despite that. He still had very little confidence in his being king, but lately had been working at taking down the conservative traditions of the realms. He sat in the throne like it had been carved for him only, and even from his posting every day Ryan could feel power radiating through him. It was both a blessing and a curse.

 

Ryan walked away from the direction of Gavin’s quarters. He hadn’t taken off his armor and his greatsword was still belted to his hip. He made his way to his own quarters, passing the still empty room of Gavin’s father. Gavin had refused to move into the room, and the tone of his voice at the time had stalled everyone when the staff had suggested the move.

 

“I will not wash his memory away from this castle,” he’d said, voice flat. It’d had been two weeks since the pyre burnt, and a week since King Ramsey had made his way back to his own kingdom. He’d known that Jack was worried; Gavin had never been so emotionless before, not even when his father had returned, mangled and dying. There had been no further talk of it.

 

Ryan hovered by the shut door, and bowed his head respectfully. He never really felt anything in regards to the afterlife, but the gesture seemed necessary. He continued on, to the rooms that had once belonged to the knight guard before him. It wasn’t ideal where their rooms were placed, with Gavin nearly on the other side of the castle and he and Jack here, but Gavin had been adamant that he wasn’t in any danger. That didn’t make rest any easier at night.

 

He pushed open the door, and noted that his window was open, letting the white light from the moon flood onto the ramswool rug that covered nearly the entirety of the floor. A torch of glowing firestone illuminated the rest of the room. Ryan did miss the knight guard rooms, the late night antics he and the other young knight guard would get up to, and the nights Gavin would sneak in and try to tell convincing horror stories, but would usually end up scaring himself. He would trade all this luxury for those moments again.

 

He unbelted his greatsword and lay the sheath and belt on a dresser, and then changed from his armor to his bedclothes. His unfinished book lay on the small table near where he slept, but Ryan couldn’t clear his head enough to concentrate on it.

 

Gavin’s new boldness had been shocking. First, not following through with the tradition of the knight guard dying with their king, and now the continued giving of food to the people of the commons. He hardly went by the godshome, and refused the idea of marriage. The last notion made Ryan smile, recalling the memory of the night of Gavin’s sixteenth nameday, he, Gavin and Jack were all in Gavin’s quarters. Gavin had had slightly too much wine, and was babbling aimlessly, his cheeks flushed and eyes glittering.

 

“--And Geoff. Oh gods. Our fathers wish for us to be betrothed. Betrothed, bloody hell!” Gavin had thrown himself back onto the mattress and laughed. “He-- Jack. Jack, he stole my wine! How could I marry him?” He turned to look at Jack, and gripped his sleeve. Jack was laughing softly. “Jack! This is serious!” The offense in his voice had made Jack laugh louder.

 

“I don’t doubt it,” he said. “Marrying the prince Ramsey does sound  _ very  _ serious.” Gavin looked very offended, and began yelling at Jack, slurring his words and pulling the sleeve he was holding.

 

Ryan didn’t really speak much, a thick rope of jealousy had enveloped him

and wrapping tighter and tighter around his chest. Of course, it was bound to happen. Princes become kings and marry other royalty, the knight guard bear love and protection and nothing more. He’d known this; it was in his vows he swore at Gavin’s feet in the godshome on his sixteenth nameday. He’d listened when Jack had knelt at Gavin’s feet, little under two days after they received word they had been chosen. 

 

“Ryan,” Gavin was talking, now tugging desperately at  _ his _ sleeve. Jack was grinning, his eyes fond. “Ryan, you’re lovely.  _ Lovely _ Ryan.” He smiled, his tugging stopped and hand clenched at the fabric instead. 

 

“Gods, you cannot hold your wine Gavin,” Ryan said, feeling his cheeks heat, trying not to focus the conversation on what Gavin said. That made Gavin pout.

 

“Why’d you say that? Maybe you’re not lovely,” Gavin released the fabric of Ryan’s shirt, and threw his hands dramatically over his eyes. “You’re not-lovely, Lovely Ryan.”

 

“If only titles could be so easily removed,” he said, although completely forgetting how to pronounce ‘removed’ as he said it, and Gavin removed his hands from his face.

 

“How--” He started giggling. “How does one suck so horribly at speaking?” 

 

“You’re just as bad!” Ryan accused, and Gavin started giggling harder. Jack was laughing also, and eventually Ryan gave in too. He’d long since stopped being embarrassed by his inability to pronounce words sometimes, mainly because Gavin was as bad, if not worse. The laughter did nothing to quell the jealousy inside, though.

 

Having that memory, and the knowledge that Gavin refused to marry, usually set Ryan’s thoughts straight, but tonight it set Ryan on edge. Something about these changes and Gavin’s progressive outlook bode ill for them, he could feel it.

 

Ignoring his book, Ryan went to bed with these thoughts and hardly slept as he listened for danger in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr: gaywood.tumblr.com


	3. II

Ryan woke before dawn, the slow return of the summers heat bringing him from his dreams. The air was warm, and in a moment the bells of the godshome would sound the beginning of the day and prayer. Ryan sighed, rubbing his face as he sat on the side of his bed, facing the open window.

 

The summers of Cyflawniad were thankfully short, but the heat never waned when the sun set, and many people of the commons succumbed to its wrath. The days were long, and it hardly ever rained. Hardly anything survived in the summers, and whatever did usually died in the winters.

 

Ryan stood up, and closed the window as the bells of the godshome rang. Ryan wasn’t particularly devout to the Five Gods, usually only praying to them when it benefited him. Regardless, he did inhale deep and look to his ceiling until the bells ended, as his sign of respect.

 

As the bells slowed to a stop, someone knocked on his door. “Ryan?”

 

Ryan sighed and opened the door. “Good morning, Jack.”

 

Jack was already dressed in his armor, and his cloak with the dark green of House Free swept to the floor. His beard was neatly trimmed and slightly oiled, and his hair kept short and flat. He would look fairly imposing, if not for his wide grin and spectacles on the bridge of his nose. “Are you eating with Gav this morning?”

 

“I wasn’t going to go directly to sparring,” Ryan said, letting his friend into the room. He was thankful that today both he and Jack weren’t needed in the throne room with Gavin. Wearing the armor and the cloak especially would have been awful in the heat. “When are we set to dine?”

 

“Gavin will be a while waking, I believe,” Jack’s tone was knowing. “Did you find him well enough last night?”

 

“I found him as he was coming back, it seemed,” Ryan replied, turning to his drawers to find a proper tunic to train in. “He was doing as we suspected.”

 

Jack sighed. “As much as I appreciate the initiative he is taking, it is dangerous for him to be out there alone.”

 

“I told him as such,” Ryan said. “I hope I convinced him to at least inform us next time.”

 

“It’s not safe,” Jack was eyeing Ryan’s abandoned armor that still lay on the floor from the night before. “The people of the commons will catch on.”

 

“I’m afraid of that,” Ryan found the tunic he wanted, and turned back to Jack. “Oh, don’t look like that!”

 

“This is about your armor on the floor,” Jack said, and looked up. Ryan walked over and picked it up, laying the pieces flat on his bed. “And about Gavin.”

 

“He’ll be fine, he has us,” Ryan turned back. “Plus, there is a reason I am sparring today. Should the occasion arise, I’ll be more prepared.”

 

Jack relaxed slightly. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said. He then straightened. “Get dressed, and we’ll go to Gavin together.”

 

When Jack closed the door behind himself, Ryan ran a hand through his hair. During the night, his ponytail had fallen loose. He brushed it smooth, staring at the door. Jack’s worry was valid, and Ryan was still worried himself, but when Gavin committed to something, there was nothing you could do to stop him from doing it.

 

Ryan tied his hair up, and finished dressing. He left his armor and sword on the bed, and walked out to join Jack.

 

They walked in silence to Gavin’s quarters. Servants scattered around them, some greeting them with smiles. It was amazing still to Ryan, despite having been in the castle for his past seventeen namedays, how awake it became when the bells of the godshome rang. In the Haywood holdfast, many of the servants didn’t wake until long after he and his mother. Of course, the holdfast was large and only two highborns resided in it. Well, one now. Regardless, the holdfast was dwarfed by the expanse of the castle, and yet the servants still continued to move like they had never slept.

 

The door to Gavin’s quarters was open when they arrived, and they were first greeted by Gavin’s cat. He peered at them from the bed, and meowed.

 

“Smee,” Gavin’s voice was thick with fatigue. “Who is it?”

 

“Us,” Jack announced, coming into the room. He gently pet Smee’s head, and the cat began to purr. Gavin yawned and waved in greeting when he saw them.

 

“G’morning…” he said, rubbing his eyes. “Do those bells have to be so loud every time? I wanted to sleep...”

 

“If you didn’t go out on vigilante missions at night, you’d have enough sleep,” Jack commented, still petting Smee. Ryan suppressed the laugh that bubbled up at Gavin’s expression.

 

“Don’t start,” Gavin waved a pointed finger at Jack. One of Gavin’s servants came in carrying his silks, and Gavin took them from her. Smee made a soft noise, and then followed her out of the room as she bowed and left. “I don’t want a lecture this morning, Jack.”

 

“I’m not starting,” Jack raised his hands defensively. Gavin rolled his eyes at him, and turned to dress. Ryan watched for a moment as Jack turned his head away in respect. Gavin was lithe, and although he never really trained with a sword, he was strong and muscular and would have the element of surprise on any enemy. And he hadn’t been lying the last night, he did have some grace like that of a waterdancer.

 

Ryan’s eyes flickered away eventually. Gavin deserved his privacy.

 

“Right then,” Gavin said after some silence, and Ryan looked back up to see him grinning. “Shall we go eat?” His crown sat upon his head, gleaming softly in the slow rising sun. The heat was starting to rise again, yet Gavin looked unfazed. He had brushed his hair and the slow growing beard he had, and his cape hung heavy from his shoulders and swept to the floor. He looked regal. Beautiful.

 

“Of course, your Grace,” Ryan replied. The two of them followed Gavin through the door to the morning meal.

 

_____________

  


Ryan left the dining hall with a smile on his face. It was nice to sometimes feel like he was the boy before the vows, despite those years being nearly twenty namedays past. He didn’t regret taking the vows; he wouldn’t give up Gavin or Jack even if his life depended on it, but the feeling would never pass.

 

The morning was clear, and the heat not yet unbearable. The knight guard quarters and training area were a short walk from the hall, near the west gate. The ground here was mostly dirt, making for an ideal training arena. The arena where all tourneys were held was outside the castle walls, and no knight guard ever stepped foot in it without a tourney running, due to fear of angering the Battleborn, the god of war.

 

Ryan walked towards the sounds of laughter and insults coming from the weaponry shed. Many of the off duty knight guard were in and around the building, readying for their day of training.

 

“I thought you knew that the king outlawed laughter,” he said, arms crossed. Many turned to look at him, and he had to struggle to keep a straight face.

 

“Ah, Lord Haywood walks among us again!” A voice said, and Ryan couldn’t help the grin.

 

“Don’t try for a power play Gruchy, we both know that won’t end well,” Ryan kept his voice playfully cool, and the replying laughter filled him with warmth. It wasn’t like he never spent time with the other knight guard, but his duties at Gavin’s side limited the amount.

 

He was clapped on the shoulder by the man he joked with. Daniel Gruchy swore his vows a summer after Ryan. He was close in age to Gavin, and they got on well from what Ryan had seen and heard from both parties. Dan often complained that due to his common house, he couldn’t have sworn himself to Gavin.

 

“Hope you’re not too out of practice, Haywood,” another knight guard called, and Ryan laughed. He hadn’t attended a sparring session in a fair few moons, and he knew that his movements may not be as fluid. As the others moved to find their training swords, Dan walked to Ryan’s side.

 

“It’s good to see you, Ryan,” he said. He spoke in a very similar way to Gavin, another reason why they got on so well. “I’m glad you came to join us today.”

 

“You lot need a seasoned professional,” Ryan joked, and Dan elbowed him in the ribs. When it came to fighting, Ryan was skilled but he still had a lot to learn. He had never fought in a true battle before, as Raleiles had remained peaceful since the Long Wars. Dan came from one of the lowborn reaches of the realms, where men were killed over a drunken disagreement. He had already had his share of blood spattered against his helm.

 

“We’ve got our fair share of them, eh?” Dan said, a relaxed smile on his lips. “We still got one of ol’ King Free’s knight guard, and he has bountiful amounts of knowledge.”

 

“He does,” Ryan replied, moving to find a wooden sword to train with. Despite also never having fought in a war, the old knight guard offered wisdom that many of the others had never received in their serving. The old man sung nothing but high praises for Gavin’s decision to have him man the walls, and despite Jack having past his thirtieth nameday and Ryan’s approaching, he gave more insight and training that tradition required, and they were still learning.

 

“I saw you leave last night,” Dan said, balancing a sword on two fingers. It dropped and he tutted, putting it back. “and then you came back with a mystery hooded man. Need to tell me something?”

 

Ryan selected a sword of his own, and balanced it. It lay perfectly flat. “Manning the walls?”

 

“As ever,” Dan replied, testing another sword. “I saw you two in the courtyard, you and Gav.” Ryan didn't bother denying it. Gavin hadn't really mastered the art of subtlety. “Is he alright?”

 

Ryan sighed. “I can't say for sure,” he said. “But don't go spreading what you saw. That's what I do know.”

 

Dan nodded. “‘Course, mate. Need a help with padding?”

 

_____________

 

In the short time it took to prepare, the heat had become almost constricting. Ryan wiped the sweat off his brow while he waited his turn. The knight guard sparring generally turned into a form of competition, where the man who loses must buy the winner sweetened wine or ale.

 

The knight guard, despite the heat and despite the fact it was only sparring, were bringing their all. The heat brought on a thirst within them all, for wine or for praise.

 

Ryan drank some water from his lambskin, sword over his knees as he watched on in approval. His readiness for a fight burned through him, the need to show the skill he had. He bounced his leg up and down, waiting for the sweet sound…

 

“The King approaches!”

 

Well, that wasn't the sound he was expecting. He stood, and the sparring around him stopped. Indeed, Gavin was walking towards them, the sunlight dancing along his crown. Jack and two other knight guard shadowed him.

 

Everyone bent the knee where they stood. Ryan heard Gavin sigh.

 

“You were doing a right good job beforehand, boys,” he said. “Get back to it.”

 

Ryan rose when Gavin approached the bench he sat at. “Aren't you supposed to be in the throne room?”

 

“What, can I not come make sure my men are fighting well?” Gavin asked, motioning Ryan to sit next him. There was a twinkle in his eye, and Ryan had to roll his eyes. Gavin knew the correct words to excuse himself from anything. “Besides, I wanted to see you fight!”

 

The two knight guard, one of them being Dan, had continued fighting as if nothing interrupted them. Gavin turned his eyes to them, grinning. Ryan was distracted long enough by just _looking_ that he nearly missed the words he had been waiting for.

 

“I yield! Gods Gruchy, take it easy,”

 

“That _was_ easy!” Dan replied, helping the other man up from the ground. They smiled at each other, their banter clearly not malicious. “Right then. Haywood, you ready to get your arse beaten?”

 

Ryan stood, taking his sword in hand. Gavin smiled at him, and then looked back at Dan. “I think you'll find you’ll be beat, B!”

 

“You wish!” Dan shot back. He wiped sweat off his brow, and drank from his own lambskin. Ryan stood in front of him, and inclined his head. Dan mirrored. “Ready?”

 

“As ever,” Ryan corrected his stance, and they began. Dan had the fighting style like that of a beast. His swings were heavy and filled with strength, almost animalistic in nature. Ryan was having trouble keeping up with his speed, even if it wasn’t as fast as some of the other men around them. Despite his burning desire to fight, he just couldn’t keep up with the ferocity of Dan’s fighting.

 

The sun was burning his exposed skin, and he barely had time to block one of Dan’s incoming blows. He took a deep breath when Dan stepped back.

 

“Aw weak, Ry!” Gavin called from behind him. Ryan laughed despite himself, and pushed back his shoulders. He wasn’t doing very well, that was true. But now Gavin was here, and he needed to show him that he had been picked all those years ago for a reason.

 

He immediately put Dan on the defensive, using his skill in side sweeping to his advantage. Every overhead swing Dan took, Ryan moved away from and came in from the side. He parried Dan with more ease, and he was no longer distracted by the burning of the sun or his lack of finesse and practice.

 

The thirst for the praise sung high in his mind, and he parried two of Dan’s swings, and spun his arm around, twisting Dan’s and disarming him. The sword landed in the dust, and Ryan pressed the wooden blade against his throat. “Do you yield?”

 

Dan grinned at him, raising his hands. “I yield.”

 

Ryan stepped back, and picked up Dan’s discarded sword. He was breathing heavily, and his shoulders hurt from blocking the power of Dan’s movements.

 

Dan shook his hand, still grinning. The other knight guard were pooling around them, congratulating Ryan and joking to Dan about his loss.

 

“Knew you'd get your arse handed to you, B,” Gavin said as he walked over. His smile was blinding, and he squeezed Dan’s shoulder when he got there.

 

“Nah, I just wanted to give Haywood a taste of glory,” he said, eyes fond as he looked at Gavin. “Why are you down here, B?”

 

“Came to check on you all,” Gavin dropped his hand, and turned to Ryan. “Obviously there is nothing to worry about with your training.”

 

“Obviously,” Ryan replied, and Gavin squeezed Ryan’s shoulder now. “You never have anything to worry about, your Grace.”

 

Gavin smiled, and he dropped his voice. “I really just wanted to watch you fight,” he murmured, and his hand moved up to his neck, practically cupping Ryan’s jaw. His eyes were blazing with pride, and Ryan swore-- _hoped_ \-- there was something more there. “I know you will never lose.”

 

Ryan was hyper aware of eyes on them both, and smiled back. “I’ll never lose with you watching,” he declared, voice equally as low. Gavin’s smile widened, and his thumb stroked a line along Ryan’s jaw.

 

“I know,” he said, holding his hand there a moment longer before dropping it. He cleared his throat, and looked at the rest of them. “Take a break. I expect a sweetened wine tonight as well, Dan!”

 

“Of course you do, your Grace,” Dan shot back, and Gavin laughed.

 

_____________

 

Watching Ryan fight filled Gavin with excitement and pride. He has always been one of the best knight guard he has ever seen. He knew how to read his opponent, and had a flow like nothing Gavin has ever seen before.

 

However, watching him win filled him with heat. He’d let that heat overtake him when he looked at him. It was hard, sometimes, to hide his feelings. Especially in moments where Gavin found Ryan his most attractive.

 

He was silent as he walked back the throne room with Jack behind him. He was reciting the knight guard vows in his head as he walked.

_I give my life to the name of the king. I vow to bear love and protect to him and him alone, and any family he may have. I vow in the name of the Mother of All, god of life, that I will give my life before that of my king is taken. I vow in the name of the Battleborn, god of war, that the battles of my king are mine also. I vow in the name of the Earth Keeper, god of earth, that my king and kingdom will be peaceful and bountiful through my actions. I vow in the name of the King of Beings, god of us, that my king will live long and will not die on my under my care. I vow in the name of the Father of the End, god of Death, that I will follow my king to the end world, where I shall stay by his side. My only marriage is to that of my sword, and my only children are the people of the commons I help to protect. These are my vows, and I wish you hear them._

 

Those ancient bloody words. It’s what defines the knight guard, what keeps them devoted.

 

Gavin hated those words. He already forced the vow to the Father of the End to be broken when he wouldn’t let his father’s remaining knight guard be killed. Why couldn’t he break the rest?

 

 _Simple_ , a voice that sounded scarily like Jack’s supplied. _Traditions define us. You may be king, but you have no power over the vows to the Five._

 

He hated it. You’d expect, that being king, he would have the ability to break laws and make them. He granted laws to both Geoff and Stonesouth, and he helped break others. He was the Free King, a name that used to have meaning after the Long Wars. He was the most powerful man in Cyflawniad, and yet he couldn’t even go against old and tired words.

 

With a sigh, he pushed open the doors to the throne room. He looked straight ahead, chin held high. The lowering sun cast orange and golden rays along the floor, illuminating the throne and making the upturned roots shine like spun gold.

 

He walked the stairs, hearing Jack stop at the bottom. Gavin sat in the throne, and Jack turned back towards the door. _My only marriage is to that of my sword, my only marriage is to that of my sword, my only marriage is to that of my sword…_

 

Gavin had spent many years trying to deny what he felt for Ryan. He continued to tell himself it was childish, and that one day he’ll meet someone who will make his chest hurt the way looking at Ryan did.

 

Suitors came and went. None of them interested him. Soon, his father stopped inviting them. He never spoke about it. When he slept with Geoff the night of the old Ramsey king’s burning, he thought at first that he was over Ryan. Everything with Geoff felt correct; the kisses, the soft moans he received as he and Geoff moved as one, the cry of their names as pleasure tore through them…

 

But when he came home again, and he saw Ryan, when Ryan grasped his hands and asked him if he was alright, if the trip was safe and hugged him when Gavin couldn’t get the words out, it was like what happened has a dream.

 

When Geoff came back to Raleiles, Gavin knew he needed the help he gave. It had been a mistake, they both mutually agreed it wouldn’t happen again. Geoff kissed him slow, and said he loved him, and it ended.

 

He knew the rumors. He’d heard them. That he and Geoff secretly married when Gavin travelled to Eurgylch with his father for Geoff’s father's funeral. Of course, that was bollocks, but the rumor had some standing, he hated to admit. After his sixteenth nameday, his people heard about the proposed marriage between he and Geoff, and his father was quick to dismiss it. He still never talked about it.

 

So he now refused to marry. He refused any suitors. He couldn’t marry another when he was in love with someone else; someone unattainable by law and tradition.

 

Gavin was pulled from his thoughts when Kerry entered the room. The other man usually looked calm and collected when he came to dismiss Gavin for dinner, but today he looked harried and was clutching parchment in his hand. “Kerry?”

 

“Your Grace, my apologies,” he said, standing at the last step. Gavin stood immediately, worried at how Kerry was acting. He came down and stood in front of him. “I’m afraid I cannot dismiss you just yet.”

 

“What happened, Kerry?” Gavin had to fight to keep his anxieties away. Kerry wouldn’t react like this unless something awful happened. Kerry held out the parchment, and bowed his head.

 

“There’s been an uprising in Rhyddhawch,” Kerry said as Gavin read the scrawl on the parchment. “King Stonesouth demands your immediate attention through the treaty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> might not have an update next week: its crack down time at uni. enjoy !


	4. III

Over four thousand years ago, Cyflawniad was run by four separate kings. The realms were split and divided, and the wars were constant. Many died, and the people of the commons were struggling.

 

Nearing the end of the Long Wars, a collection of battles that ran for nearly ten years and caused the deaths of so many, the Free king came together with the Ramsey king and the Stonesouth king. Together, they signed a treaty of peace and trade. If one king was having trouble, the other three would gather their men and march to his aid. Resources, food, law and gold were to be traded once every moon.

 

However, the fourth king refused. To end the wars, he was put to death and his lands abandoned. The castle had now crumbled to nothing but a few stones and soon the wierwood swallowed the old kingdom whole.

 

As the treaty was brought forth by the Free king, House Free was named Protector of the Realms, and anything and everything about Cyflawniad went through him. That’s the treaty that Stonesouth was asking for him to fulfill.

 

_Free,_

 

_There are problems arising in Rhyddhawch, and there have been many rogue uprisings throughout the kingdom. Many of my people of the commons are dying, and my food is running low. If you have any love for the treaty of our ancestors, I implore you to send to Rhyddhawch food and knight guard reinforcements._

 

_Stonesouth._

 

Gavin had read and reread the letter over and over, enough now that he didn’t even need to read the words on the parchment any more. Within recent memory, it had been many years since Rhyddhawch had reached out in the name of treaty, and King Stonesouth was known well for his stubbornness, and as Protector of the Realms, Gavin couldn’t refuse his plea.

 

He sighed heavily, and put the parchment on his dresser. He rubbed his eyes hard enough to see stars. He hadn’t of even realised how bad it was in the southern kingdom, and the negativity of the situation became almost constricting.

 

Wrapping his arms around himself, Gavin started pacing. In his short two year reign, there had never been a conflict such like this one, and Gavin wasn’t prepared for it. His father had always known what to do, what to say and how to react. Gavin just felt lost, unsure of what decision was right, of what decision was safe.

 

Time passed, and Gavin continued pacing. The sunset bathed his room and the courtyards below him in shadow and blood coloured light. He didn’t feel like the king; he felt like the lost heir, seeing his fathers lifeblood seep onto cold, grey stone and rough cloth. He didn’t know what to do.

 

The answer came to him when the moon rose, and he was sitting in his bed, staring at the parchment on his dresser until it went out of focus. His ever present saviours entered the room without knocking.

 

“It’s on the dresser,” Gavin said, not looking at either of them. Ryan walked into his line of sight, and picked it up to read it. Jack sat next to him, his worry clear through his hand on Gavin’s shoulder.

 

“This is a first,” Ryan said, reading the parchment. “Although, I expected something worse. From the way Jack sounded when he got me, I thought someone had died.”

 

“Someone is! Many someones,” Gavin said, hands wringing together in his lap. “Why didn’t he tell me earlier?”

 

“Gav, this isn’t on you,” Jack said, voice fierce. Gavin blinked slowly, and turned to him. “You couldn’t have known about the problems in Rhyddhawch without being told.”

 

“Jack is right,” Ryan supplied. Gavin turned to him. He hadn’t yet changed from what he was wearing earlier in the day, and he was slightly comforted by the memory of watching Ryan fight, and the subsequent _moment_ they shared afterwards. That comfort didn't last long. “You can’t blame yourself for not knowing about this.”

 

Logically, Gavin knew this, but that wasn’t what was bringing on his panic. “I don’t know what to do,” he said, voice sounding very small. Sounding weak. He didn’t sound like a king. “I… My father would know exactly what to say, what to do… I don’t. I’m not him. How can _I_ fill the shoes of the royal family that has kept this country running?”

 

“Gavin, you’re more than worthy of filling that role,” Jack said immediately.

 

“How?” Gavin pulled away from him, standing up. “Jack, I’m not my father, Jack.”

 

“No, you’re you,” Ryan said. “You’re _you_ , Gavin. You don’t need to be your father.” The words made Gavin close his eyes tight for a moment. Everyone had expected him to become his father, in his attitude and in his rulings. Everyone expected the commanding presence of the old Free king, not a prince who couldn't fit the crown.

 

“I do,” Gavin found himself whispering. “The council, the people… They expect power. Stonesouth expects that!”

 

“Fuck them,” Ryan swore, standing in front of him. “In the names of the Gods, fuck _everything_ they say, Gavin.”

 

“You're more powerful than they realise,” Jack said, standing at his side and placing a comforting hand on his lower back. He was right, _he was_ , but the panicked thoughts swallowed the positivity of Ryan and Jack’s words, and Gavin found himself shaking his head.

 

“Then what do I need to be?” he snapped. Frustration, upset, _fear_ … All were eating into him and it wouldn’t stop. “A king that can only bollocks up the lives of his people? Who can’t make a simple decision to _help_ them?”

 

“You can help them,” Ryan was far too calm and relaxed. Gavin wanted that. “You will help them. Why? Because they know you can. Jack knows you can. I know you can, Gavin.”

 

“You don't need to be your father,” Jack repeated Ryan's words, and Gavin felt so overwhelmed. He wanted to believe them, because they had never lied to him before. They were his best friends, two of the only men he trusted. But he couldn’t make himself believe. He stepped away from both of them, towards the door.

 

“I need air,” he said, voice wrecked. Without waiting for an answer, he left the room. The air outside was warm, not doing anything at all for his heated cheeks and aching chest. He hadn’t changed from his cloak and silks either, which didn’t help. He felt trapped no matter where he went, the stone walls practically collapsing on top of him.

 

Eventually, he found himself at the familiar archery hall. As a younger boy, he did attend sword training but he never got the hang of it. He couldn’t hold a sword up or swing it to save his life, but he had an affinity for archery. For his tenth nameday, his father had gifted him an ironwood bow, carved with a beautiful and intricate design that had blown Gavin away. It had been carved for use by a man grown, so Gavin practiced hard so that he felt worthy of using it.

 

He had slowly become a better archer than the ones who were to serve the front lines.

 

Gavin pushed on the door, which swung open immediately. It was like entering a second home; he felt tension slowly release from his body. He closed the door behind him and illuminated the firestone torches that lined the walls. The entire hall was bathed in the warm light, and with a deep breath Gavin undid the clasp of his cloak and let it fall to the dusty floor. He took off his silk tunic, leaving him standing only in his undershirt. He grabbed his bow and quiver of arrows, and stood in front of the first target.

 

He took an arrow and docked it, and lined it up to the bullseye. He exhaled, focusing. In his mind’s eye, he saw the piece of parchment stuck to the target. He let the arrow loose, and it went directly through the red circle. Some of the anxiety about the message went with the arrow, so Gavin moved onto the next target. This time, as he nocked the arrow he thought of Stonesouth himself. He’d never met the other king, but he knew the stories. He was sour, sullen and had the rage of a bull. Appropriate, since he was said to resemble a cow, and some people of the commons swore he was a mage with the ability to grow horns.

 

Imagining this, horns and all, Gavin let the arrow loose directly into the centre of the vision’s forehead, the arrow piercing through the bullseye again. He dropped his arms, gazing at it, feeling less upset and fearful.

 

He moved to the third target, taking an arrow from the quiver. This time, he imagined his father. His face when he laughed at something Gavin had said, to the stern look that he adopted when he sat upon the throne. His eyes burned, and he bit down hard on his lip as he let the arrow loose. The arrow pierced the outer black ring, and Gavin lowered his arms again.

 

The door opened behind him, and Gavin turned quickly, arrow docked and string drawn. He aimed right at the intruders forehead. They raised their hands, said his name, and made him lower the bow.

 

“Hey, Gav,” Jack repeated, and Gavin felt completely awful.

 

“Gods Jack, I’m sorry!” he said, relaxing his hold on the string and putting the arrow back in the quiver. “Was just lost in thought, I guess. Fight or flight instincts and all that.”

 

“It’s okay,” Jack lowered his hands. “I wanted to give you time before I found you.”

 

“I, uh…. Figured,” Gavin looked away from him. “I feel a bit better.” Not exactly the truth, but it wasn’t a whole lie. Gavin was good at those.

 

“I can tell,” Jack’s voice was kind. “I’m actually here to help you.”

 

“When aren’t you?” Gavin began packing his bow and arrows away, the peacefulness of his spontaneous archery broken. Jack chuckled behind him, and Gavin was glad that their argument-not-argument hadn’t led to anything serious.

 

“I organised a council meeting for tomorrow morning in your stead,” he explained. Gavin stopped in his work for a moment, and turned. Council meetings were never organised to help a king form a decision. “We are going to help you figure out what we should do when we honour the treaty.”

 

“You make it sound easy,” Gavin commented, although any further anxiety he had about the situation disappeared.

 

“It will be easy,” Jack replied. “You’re not alone. We’re all here to help you.”

 

Gavin smiled as he pulled the arrows from their place in the target, completely ignoring how he had missed the bullseye on the third one he shot. Of course he wasn’t alone. Of course.

 

Jack helped Gavin blow out the firestone, and after Gavin had redressed his tunic and cloak, they walked out of the hall together. Jack bumped his shoulder as they walked. “Haven’t seen you in the archery hall in a while. You were making good progress of those targets.”

 

“Haven’t had time,” Gavin said with a shrug. “Y’know, ruling and all that.” He was glad that the physical exertion had calmed the swirling storm of emotion.

 

“You missed dinner, so we had some leftovers left for you-- _Some_ , Gavin. You need to eat too,” Jack spoke before Gavin got the chance to. He had opened his mouth to protest, but Jack was right. He was a little bit of a human disaster, but not eating wasn’t going to help anyone, lest himself.

 

“I think I’m going to eat alone,” Gavin didn’t really need the company of his knight guard right now, plus he still felt slightly awkward about how _weak_ both Jack and Ryan had seen him. Plus, this happening after the whole situation with Ryan at training. Today had been a bit of a mess.

 

Jack nodded. “I expected us much,” he replied. They came to one of the many splits before their separate quarters. “Would you like one of us to be closer?”  


“Nah,” Gavin waved his hands at him. “I’m not made of glass, I’ll be right.” He didn’t sound convincing, but he really just need some time alone. Jack nodded again, and took Gavin’s forearm in his hand, and Gavin did the same to him. They only held it for the required amount of time, and there was no fire.

 

“Goodnight, your Grace,” Jack said, bowing his head. He squeezed his arm for a fraction of a second, and then left him alone.

 

Gavin made his way to his quarters, and was met by his cat and his food. “Smee,” he murmured, kissing the cat’s head. He got a small meow in reply, and when Gavin sat to eat he curled in his lap. The only sound was the scrape of silverware and Smee’s purring, and it was almost serene.

 

Calm before the storm.

 

_____________

 

Gavin was awake before the bells, having hardly slept the night before. Smee was asleep on his feet, and the heat from outside was slowly making its way into the room. Dark, heavy clouds blotted out any sunlight and threatened rain, despite that being unheard of in the summers. He sighed, shifting his cat off his feet and getting out of bed. He dressed slowly, gazing at the clouds every so often, waiting for the bells to wake the rest of his world. He’ll request breakfast to be taken to the small council, so that he can get it over with.

 

His panic from the night before seemed completely unnecessary in hindsight, but since his father’s death those moments had become more frequent. He would lose himself in panic, sinking to his floor and tugging at his hair as he shook. He never mentioned these moments, because Jack and Ryan worried enough. They didn’t need the mediocre business of Gavin’s panic plaguing them too.

 

The bells rang. Smee mewled at the noise, and lept from the bed to the window. Gavin sighed, and gave his hair a quick brush. One of his servants made his way into the room when the bells ceased, and Gavin asked him to pass on the message to the kitchens about the meal.

 

When he was alone again, he donned the last of his outfit; his black velvet cloak with golden trim and clasp. He’d last worn this to his fathers burning.

 

Thunder rumbled in the distance as Gavin left the room, the small piece of parchment Ryan must have left last night clutched in his hand, his crown hardly shining in the dark light. He walked across the yard to the small council room, the smell of rain stronger outside. Servants bowed their heads at him, murmured soft greetings in the name of The Five, and scurried out of his way. Gavin made sure he would smile at them, even if it was faked.

 

The door to the small council room was open, and when Gavin walked in everyone in the room stood to attention.

 

“Your Grace,” Kerry said immediately, bowing his head. “We’re to understand we are here to attend to the matters in Rhyddhawch?”

 

“King Stonesouth begs for our immediate attention,” Gavin replied, sitting at the head of the table. He avoided looking at his knight guard, who are seated away from him. “Matters in Rhyddhawch have worsened far from what he can handle.”

 

“What is your plan?”

 

“I have none,” Gavin’s voice was slightly cool. “That’s why this meeting has been called; we must discuss our move of action together,” He put the parchment down on the wooden table, and crossed his arms. “That there is the plea.”

 

“I believe we should honour the treaty,” one of the council members spoke up, a soft-spoken godspeaker who was elected by Gavin’s grandfather. “We should send provisions and a few of our knight guard to help defend the king and his city.”

 

“Many of the new recruits who swore the vow would benefit from such a venture,” another member said. She was a Mother's Priestess, the woman who oversaw the work of healers in Raleiles. “I understand many of the women in your service are more than capable.”

 

“They are,” Jack answered fo Gavin. “My fear is King Stonesouth’s reaction to a cavalry of female knight guard. He hasn't exactly _progressed_ like King Free and King Ramsey.”

 

“Edgar can deal with it,” Gavin muttered, bouncing his leg up and down. “He has to move forward from that backwards thinking shite.”

 

He noticed Ryan’s cough that he used to cover his laughter, especially at the reaction of the council hearing their king swear.

 

“Your Grace,” Kerry was also struggling to keep composed. “Do you agree that this is an appropriate decision?”

 

Gavin swallowed, a sudden jolt of fear running through him. What if he sent his knight guard and bandits attacked them? Or that Stonesouth wouldn't accept what Gavin sent him and his knight guard were punished?

 

He thought of his father, and thunder rumbled above them. His father would go in person, fairness in his action and words. He wouldn't let his people and his brother in royalty suffer like this.

 

“I'm fine with it,” he said. He hated how Jack relaxed so visibly that saying his next words almost hurt to say. “but I'm making the journey too.”

 

His council did not look pleased, and the protests started as their breakfasts began making their way into the room.

 

“That's completely absurd!” the Mother’s Priestess announced. She almost knocked the silverware out of a serving girl’s hands.

 

“It is not a kings job to oversee provision visits! They come to you!” The godspeaker didn't raise his voice, but it was sharp. “Your Grace, I don't advise you do that.”

 

Many other members spoke their minds, none of them agreeing with what Gavin said. Gavin understood all of their worry, but he refused to take back what he had said. This kingdom, his realms, his people… They needed a king like his father before him. That’s what he was going to give them.

 

He ate his breakfast whilst his council bickered around him, refusing to let himself feel anything other than prideful in his decision. It felt right to emulate parts of his father. He knew that this decision would prove to be the right one.

 

“Gavin…” When Jack spoke, his uncertainty and his fear were evident in his voice. “The king leaving his throne could lead to your enemies hunting you while you’re at your most vulnerable.”

 

“If I have my knight guard, I’ll be fine,” Gavin tried his hardest to sound stern.

 

“Us, or the ones you’re taking for reinforcements?” Ryan’s voice was cool, and Gavin felt like someone had stabbed him in the chest with a blade of ice. His face was a calm mask of indifference, so Gavin had no idea what he was thinking, let alone feeling.

 

“Do you expect me to leave without you and Jack?”

 

“It sounded like that was the plan,” Ryan had crossed his arms against his chest, and Gavin shrunk back slightly into his chair.

 

“It wasn’t,” Gavin retorted. “I’d never go anywhere without you.”

 

Ryan looked away from him, and Gavin felt desperate. He _needed_ someone to understand, and it hurt that Jack and Ryan, the two men who had backed him up on everything didn’t see this from his point of view.

 

“Your Grace,” Kerry stopped the arguing of all parties. “I don’t trust King Stonesouth, but I trust you and your knight guard. They serve you and us loyally, so I believe that if you make this journey with them, it shows the strength of the relationship between Raleiles and Rhyddhawch.”

 

“Unfortunately, Shawcross has a point,” the Mother’s Priestess murmured, eyes downcast. “A kings party would show Rhyddhawch what it means to Cyflawniad, and it _is_ due time Edgar Stonesouth meets our new king. He didn’t attend the burning or the coronation.”

 

“Gods be good,” the godspeaker pinched the bridge of his nose. “Take the grace of the Five with you.”

 

The turnaround happened so quickly, Gavin felt like he gave himself mental whiplash. Jack looked disappointed as the council began agreeing that Gavin should accompany the party. A departure was set for two days time, and the council was put in charge over Gavin’s absence.

 

The rain began to fall as the meeting ended and everyone completed their meals. Gavin took a few deep breaths, looking down at his hands. His fathers ring was starting to show its age, the gold scratched and blurring. Gavin clenched his fingers, and looked up. Ryan met his gaze, and he didn’t know what Ryan saw on his face because that cool mask stuttered for a moment.

 

He couldn’t talk about it. This was the first step to giving Cyflawniad a king, the Protector of the Realms, that it needed.

 

_____________

 

The storms continued throughout the days it took to prepare for the journey to Rhyddhawch. Parts of the courtyards flooded, and the constant thunder spooked many of their horses. Preachers in the lower reaches called it an omen, that The Five were angry and were planning to wash their cities clean of sin. Others said it was telling of a great war, bringing more destruction than the one that founded the realms. Many thought the storm was there to kill their king as he travelled the many leagues to the southern kingdom.

 

The thunder was muffled by the dining hall. The firestone torches were burning low, and the light was fading, casting a harsh shadow on the figure huddled at the bench. The cask of sweetened wine was all but empty, and his hands were loosely holding the stem of his goblet. His thoughts were a drunken muddle, nothing making sense or strung together sensibly. He hadn’t stopped drinking, and had hardly eaten. Those two things caused chaos in his body.

 

The hall door opened, causing him to look up blearily. It took him a while to recognise who was walking towards him.

 

“Ryan!” The word was slurred, the letters melting together. He hadn’t spoken to his knight guard alone since the council meeting. In fact, he’d been avoiding him as much as possible.

 

“Gavin,” Ryan sounded relieved, but it quickly turned to worry. “Shit, did you drink all this?”

 

“...Maybe.” Gavin fluttered his hands, which made him drop his goblet. He stared at it as it rolled away from him, like it was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen.

 

“Gods, Gavin,” Ryan came and sat next to him, picking the goblet up and placing it away from him. “You’re drunk.”

 

“Yes,” Gavin replied, looking at him. “Genius idea!” He wasn’t going to mention _why_ he was drunk. Not at all.

 

“For the love of-- Gavin, that’s a very idiotic idea!” Ryan said, wrapping his fingers around his wrist. “We’re supposed to be leaving tomorrow and you’re drinking the sweetened wine?”

 

“I mean,” Gavin smacked his lips loudly. “I am the king, so…” The touch sent gooseflesh up his arm, and he suddenly felt cold, like he needed more than just fingers to the wrist.

 

“That doesn’t mean you should be spending your nights drinking,” Gods, Ryan sounded _worried_. Why was he worried? Was something wrong? “This isn’t like you.”

 

“What is like me?” Gavin implored, leaning forward. “I know what is! A… A bad son.”

 

Ryan pulled back slightly, brow furrowed. “That isn’t…”

 

“M’tryin’... So hard to be my father,” Gavin stared at a shadow on the wall, not really focused on anything. He couldn’t stop the words now, even if he wanted to. “Because that’s what Stonesouth expects! A… _Good_ king.”

 

“Gavin…”

 

“But I’m not a good king! I am… A boy pretending to be one. I don’t even deserve my crown, because… I am not my father! How can I be? M’juss-- Bad son,” Gavin continued, and his eyes started to burn. It could be because of the emotions, intensified by the wine or the smoke from the firestone, but he knew tears. “Y’know? I never… I’ve only been in the crypts once! When I laid his sword. I don’t even _visit_ , Rye!”

 

Ryan’s fingers on his wrist tightened. “Is that what all of this was about? You going to Rhyddhawch? To prove yourself?”

 

“I needed some courage! Anything!” Gavin blinked, and the burn in his eyes ceased as he just let the tears leak. He gestured to the cask, blinking rapidly now. “Because I can’t… I can’t _be_ him, Ryan.” His voice broke, the words filled with desperation.

 

“You don’t have to be,” Ryan cupped his cheek. “You’re not a bad son for not being him. You’re not a bad son for not visiting. You’re a great son, for continuing his memory as _you_.”

 

Gavin shook his head. “I… I never really mourned him,” he whispered, and despite the crying his voice was somewhat stable. “I never _cried_. I just took the crown ‘nd… Did shit.”

 

“ _Shit_ being changing the traditions you hate, and potentially saving the lives of thousands,” Ryan squeezed his wrist again. “But turning into him won’t help you mourn him. You have to be yourself.”

 

“Why?” Gavin demanded. “So I can diss’point everyone?”

 

Ryan released his wrist, and Gavin felt the loss immediately. “You’re not disappointing me. I was worried you were trying to push us away,” His other hand cupped Gavin’s other cheek, his thumb swiping away his tears. “Don’t push me away.”

 

Gavin didn’t think. Blame the wine, or the emotions raging a war, but he didn’t think. He moved forward, and pressed his lips against Ryan’s. He dug his nails against the wood of the table, and Ryan went still. His fingers pressed against Gavin’s cheeks, and the regret started. _He doesn’t feel it_.

 

He began to pull away, began to get ready to run because _he doesn’t feel it like you do._ Only, one of Ryan’s hands slipped to the base of his skull, tipping his head up and pulling him back in. He relaxed into Gavin, slowly letting Gavin open his mouth. Gavin felt power radiate through him, like it was leaking from where Ryan’s fingertips pressed against his cheek, his scalp, from Ryan’s lips as he pulled Gavin as close to him as possible.

 

The power he felt around him, it felt familiar, somehow. Like he’d felt it before. But, in his drunken and smitten state, the memory was locked firmly away. All he had now was Ryan’s kiss, and it was drowning him. He would happily die in this moment, this being his last memory.

 

It ended too soon. They both pulled away for air, and what had happened hit him suddenly. He _kissed_ Ryan. _He_ did _that_. It was like seeing the sun for the first time, bright and overwhelming. He didn’t know what to feel, about what just happened or why he did it. Ryan dropped his hands, and Gavin slumped back down into his chair.

 

He should be happy, but nothing made sense. He wanted to say something, but words escaped him. Ryan pulled away from him completely, and whatever spell that was between them broke.

 

“You should rest,” Ryan said, his voice strange. Gavin blinked at him, hurt mixing in with the rest of the messy emotions. “We leave after our blessings at first light.” With a nod in Gavin’s direction, he left the room. Gavin stared after him, lifting his fingers to his lips and running them across. He wanted to shut it down, to stop thinking.

 

Heart racing, he let himself weep. Over which situation, he couldn’t tell anymore.

 

_____________

 

The rain was easing when day broke. Gavin and his party stood at the castle gates, being blessed by the godspeaker for good fortunes their travels from The Five. Ryan stood behind Gavin, acutely aware of how close the other was to him. He wanted to talk to Gavin about the night before, about what it meant. If it even meant anything.

 

When Jack and Ryan collected Gavin, he had looked like hell. The amount of sweetened wine had affected him, and he might have still been drunk, albeit slightly. Gavin had plastered on a smile regardless, and acted as if Ryan hadn’t seen him crack and break only hours before.

 

The blessing ended, and they mounted their horses. Silence remained between Gavin, Jack and himself as the rest of the knight guard chattered around them, and it stayed that way as they rode down the southern road, away from Raleiles.

 

“Gavin,” Ryan said. Gavin made a noise of acknowledgement, but didn’t turn to look at him. _Don’t back out now, Haywood. It had to of meant something._ “Can we talk?”

 

“Are we not now?” Gavin’s voice was weary, the wine obviously still affecting him. Ryan swallowed, and rode up closer.

 

“About what happened,” he said slowly, quietly. Jack was talking to Dan, and not paying attention to the outwardly suspicious activity from his friend. “Last night.”

 

“About what?” Gavin still wouldn’t look at him. Frustration ran through him.

 

“You know about what!”

 

“Ryan,” He turned now, and despite his obvious fatigue, his eyes were blazing. “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about, Ryan.”

 

Ryan searched his face, and found no recognition at what Ryan was insinuating. He pulled back, chest hurting. _He doesn’t remember._ It was like someone had slapped him, forcing him to see the reality. Gavin had been drunk, and he’d hardly been able to string together a proper sentence. Why would he remember something like that?

 

“Sorry,” Ryan said, trying to sound neutral. He touched Gavin’s wrist. “Misunderstanding.”

 

Gavin flinched away from Ryan’s touch, like the gesture burned him. Gavin looked at him, eyes wide for a moment before he moved away. Ryan didn’t _understand._ He watched Gavin desperately for a moment, before shoving the feeling away in place for cold truths. Even if Gavin had remembered, what did Ryan expect? He was a knight guard, sworn to the Gods to protect him, and Gavin was king. A drunken mistake was all the night before was. That was it.

 

A drunken mistake that truly made Ryan see the light on how far gone he was.

 

_____________

 

The journey was long, and Ryan was soon growing sick of the bed roll in his tent, the summers heat, even the words of his book were driving him near mad. His practice had been cut short, and he was itching to implement what he had been reading. He was isolating himself from the people around him, from Jack and Gavin because of this, the never ending tiredness, the itch, the mistakes.

 

“We’re about a day's ride from Rhyddhawch,” one of the new knight guard, a small but agile woman who’d introduced herself as Mica told him. “His Grace has gone scouting.”

 

They’d stopped to water the horses and to eat. Ryan hastily stowed his book in his pack, and looked up at her. She wasn’t highborn, but she held herself well and knew many of the customs that people from the lower reaches of the realm didn’t. She smiled at him.

 

“Oh, he’s asking for you and Pattillo,” she said. Ryan perked up immediately. He hadn’t really wanted to spend time with Gavin, but he was feeling the distance like a hole in his side. Jack had also noticed that there hadn’t been any practical jokes from Ryan, or Gavin trying desperately to prank Ryan back. Ryan had caught him frowning when Gavin refused to sit next to Ryan at meals, instead electing to be practically pressed into Dan’s side.

 

“Right,” Ryan nodded at her, standing. “Thank you, Burton.”

 

Her smile grew. “Pattillo is waiting by his horse,” she informed him, before walking off. Ryan watched her leave, steeling himself. Jack would confront him immediately, and then seeing Gavin after the awkwardness between them after what had happened… Gods, give him strength.

 

Stowing his pack back on his horse, he walked over to where Jack was waiting. He hadn’t even said hello before Jack launched into speaking.

 

“So I’m surprised Gavin requested you too,” he said, arms crossed. “considering the ice that is currently between you.”

 

“I’m surprised too,” Ryan replied. He may as well accept what is happening, especially if they are both making it extremely obvious something is wrong.

 

Jack looked worried, an almost permanent fixture on his face these days. “What happened, Ryan?”

 

The walls went up. Jack was very perceptive, and Ryan couldn’t tell. He shouldn’t. Why accept the truth of his mistakes? “Let’s go to him, we can’t keep our king waiting, can we?”

 

Jack sighed, and nodded. He led the way, back to the southern road. They found Gavin perched in a tree, legs hanging off the branch and eyes staring. Ryan’s heart lurched, and he immediately wanted to reach out to him, get him down and hold him…

 

“How long has he been up there?” Ryan asked, stopping short. The _need_ to do something, it ran through him. The feeling pooled in his stomach, in his fingertips, but he didn’t act on it.

 

“Since we stopped, I think,” Jack replied, staying back with him. Gavin hadn’t yet acknowledged their presence. He swung his legs slightly, hands braced against the branch. He didn’t even look like a king here, without his crown, jewels and expensive silks. Here, he was dressed like any other highborn, fitted leathers with a sword at his hip. His bow and a quiver of arrows were across his back. It was like Ryan was reliving the memory of their trip to the wierwood, back when Ryan was first falling for Gavin…

 

“He’s trying to be his father,” Ryan said. “It’s like a ghost looms over us; he’s so desperate to prove himself.”

 

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Jack whispered. “He can’t move on. I don’t think he’s properly mourned.”

 

“He hasn’t, he won’t let himself,” Ryan tried to only think of their conversation the other night and not the kiss. “I don’t even think he cried about it.” _Not until you were there_ , the annoying voice in his head supplied. _He let himself cry_ then.

 

“I worry about him,” Jack looked at Ryan, and touched his arm. “About both of you. There’s so much you both both suppress.”

 

Ryan knew what he was insinuating. To be fair, Ryan never had to hide his feelings behind closed doors. But just because Jack knew of his feelings doesn’t mean he will tell him what happened. “I worry about him too.”

 

“We need to help him, and not by just protecting him,” Jack looked back to their king, his hand still on Ryan’s arm. “We need to show him that he doesn’t need to become his father to rule.”

 

Ryan continued looking at Jack. The man was so open about everything he felt. He loved and trusted Gavin so fearlessly, and had never once turned him away from anything. Ryan envied him, envied his openness and the ferocity of what he felt for Gavin. This wasn’t the first time he wished his feelings were strictly platonic.

 

“We have to,” Ryan agreed, looking back to Gavin. His shoulders lifted, dropped. His legs stopped swinging.

 

“Gav?” Jack called, stepping away from Ryan. Gavin started, and turned his head to look at them. He smiled, and it was the first genuine smile Ryan had seen since they left Raleiles. “Mica said you wanted us?”

 

Gavin climbed down from his branch with so much ease. He’d had a lot of practice, as he used to scale the walls of the castle to lie on the roof to read the stars when they were boys.

 

“Yeah,” Gavin came over and squirmed his way in between Ryan and Jack. “I’ve only ever been to Eurgylch. It’s so much more… Mountain-y in the south.”

 

“Mountain-y?” Ryan questioned, and Gavin elbowed him in the arm.

 

“Shut it, you prick,” he said warmly. Ryan felt like the past week of awkwardness had been a nightmare, something that never happened. All of the anxieties he had been holding onto since the kiss disappeared. “There’s just not a word for how many mountains there are here!”

 

“But you could’ve found something better than ‘mountain-y’,” Ryan teased. Jack was looking at them, grinning. He looked very pleased, and it was such a relief.

 

“Oh, you have something better?” Gavin challenged.

 

“The south is more mountainous than our northern regions,” Ryan tried to imitate Gavin’s accent, but instead he botched the word horrifically and Gavin picked up on it immediately.

 

“Main-tin-us?” he pointed out, sniggering. “The south is more _maintenance_?”

 

Ryan flushed. “You heard me.”

 

Jack roared with laughter. Gavin was still sniggering, his high-pitched squeaks sending Ryan to oblivion. Gavin was looking at him like he was the only thing that mattered, his smile wide as he laughed.

 

The emotional whiplash was almost dizzying, and Ryan had no idea when Gavin suddenly decided to act like nothing had happened over the past few days. Ryan appreciated it, but not the game that seemed to be at play. But if he didn’t remember what happened between them in the dining hall, and wasn’t sure why there had been a rift, Ryan was fine to play the fool for him. As long as it felt fixed, at least for a little while.

 

_____________

 

Ryhddhawch didn’t seem like a very comforting place. The entirety of the living community was nestled along a mountain range, with Stonesouth’s castle above them. The castle looked like it had been constructed from the mountain itself, the dark grey stone all but blending it into the side of the mountain. The terrain was uneven, and some houses looked like they were slipping down a decline. Whatever houses weren’t sliding appeared as if they already had. Ruins; stone bricks lay crumbled across the roads. Huts with holes where walls should be and dirt where there should be floors; homes barely fitting of wild beasts.

 

The people of the commons were sullen looking. They were skinny, sickly; and some corpses were just lying on the cobblestone streets; wild animals and rodents skulking around the remains to find their next meal off of them. They eyed the party, some eagerly and some with fear. They all knew who Gavin was, but none of them bowed. They just watched as he rode by, soldiers and carts of food behind him.

 

Ryan was riding directly behind him, Jack on his right. Once Gavin rode by, all people immediately dropped their eyes and continued their business. The streets stunk of rot, and ravens cried from rooftops. It wasn’t very pleasant.

 

“This place is a hole,” Ryan muttered, loud enough that Jack and Gavin could hear him. Jack snorted, but Gavin didn’t really react but for a twitch.

 

“You can say that again,” Jack replied, his nose wrinkling up as they passed a putrid smelling corpse. “Gods, why don’t they clean these people up and bury them?”

 

“I think their boneyards might be filling up quickly,” Ryan said. “By the sounds of it, people of the commons are dying daily.”

 

Jack hissed in sympathy. “I thought Raleiles had it bad during the summers… I can see why Stonesouth pleaded for us.”

 

Ryan hummed in agreement, looking forward to Gavin again. He sat, head held high with his crown glittering in the sunlight. He had outdone himself the morning they rode into Rhyddhawch, obviously wanting to make an impression. Knight guard in the party held the Free house banners high as they walked through the streets, towards the stairs that led to the castle.

 

“We have to leave the horses here,” Gavin said, voice stern. He sounded _exactly_ like his father. “They can’t walk that incline.”

 

“I’ll stay behind!” Ryan heard Dan elect himself. Gavin turned to look at him, and nodded.

 

“Keep Mica with you,” he responded, dismounting. “Don’t spend too much at the tavern, lads.”

 

Ryan and Jack dismounted also, and the few men that Gavin was offering as reinforcements gathered their things and the food they had brought. They walked together in silence, Gavin leading the line.

 

The walk was steep, and despite their varying physiques, they were all tired by the time they made it to even ground at the entrance to the castle. Ryan looked over the edge, the rise and fall of Rhyddhawch and the mountains that stretched to the horizon. The sun burned his skin, and the heat was constricting.

 

Gavin touched his back, between his shoulders, and looked out over the edge too. “It’s nothing like Raleiles. It’s weird, not looking outside and seeing grass and the wierwood. It’s just… Stone.”

 

“Foreboding,” Ryan said, not moving away from his hand. “There’s no life here, not really.”

 

“Gods, you sound like a right downer,” Gavin commented. “But you’re right. Nothing is really alive here.”

 

Ryan looked down at him. He looked confident and regal, but underneath Ryan knew he was terrified. Edgar Stonesouth had always been a cunning man, a force to be reckoned with. When King Ramsey and Gavin’s grandfathers presented their united front, the young Stonesouth stayed in line. He wouldn’t dare go against the Protector of the Realms.

 

“Ready?” Jack asked. Gavin immediately jumped away from Ryan, like standing next to him with a hand on his back would get him killed.

 

“Is he ready for us?”

 

“His knight guard say so,” Jack replied, gesturing to the two people standing at the great door. A man and a woman, both of whom looked very imposing and intimidating, opened the door for the remainder of the party who came to the castle.

 

“His Grace will see you in the throne hall,” the man explained, leading the way. The stone of the castle was forgivingly cool, a welcome change from the heat.

 

“Thank you,” Gavin replied, his voice back to sounding like the façade of his father.

 

Ryan was shocked at how these knight guard seemed so impassive. They spoke about their king like he wasn’t important to them at all. Throughout his childhood, his mother had always taught him about the honours of swearing the vow, how being close to a king or queen meant more than blood, even if they weren’t sworn to their side. These knight guard didn’t seem like they received the same teachings.

 

Stonesouth’s throne hall was nothing like the one in Raleiles. The one back home was at least somewhat modest, with the features being the carved ceilings and marble pillars. Here, it was like everything was made from or was cast in expensive jewels and metals. Everything in the room seemed to shine, and it was like they had stepped into a completely different reality from the one at the base of the mountain. Even the Stonesouth family banners were pristine, smooth silks and silver trim. Every single one had orbs of polished obsidian hanging from them.

 

Stonesouth himself sat in his throne. The throne was made from what seemed to be iron, with rubies set in the features that glistened like droplets of blood. The man was nothing like Ryan expected after seeing his people of the commons. He looked well-fed, his skin was healthy and he didn’t seem like he was in any danger himself. Something about this situation didn’t seem right to Ryan. He stood closer to Gavin.

 

“Free!” Stonesouth’s voice boomed, and oh Gods the rumours about him were true. The fat around his face gave him the resemblance like that of a cow. His ears even hung low, and his nose was round and stuck out slightly. In true, he wasn’t a very attractive man. Didn’t stop him from marrying six times.

 

“Stonesouth,” Gavin inclined his head, and Edgar approached them all. He clapped Gavin’s shoulder, and smiled. His smile looked more like a grimace. “I’ve come to honour your plea.”

 

“I must say, I wasn’t expecting you to actually be here,” he said, dropping his hand. He paid no attention to Ryan or Jack, or even the other soldiers. “Just the food would have been fine. But your presence is a gift, your Grace.”

 

Ryan wasn’t convinced by the niceties. Gavin was tense beside him. “You never came to my coronation, my lord.” Gods, he was even trying to enunciate his words better.

 

“My wife became very ill,” Edgar didn’t even sound upset. “I lost her and my unborn child. Writing to you slipped my mind, but you can understand. Loss is hard.”

 

“I understand,” Gavin replied, nodding. “I hear you have married again.”

 

“Yes,” Edgar smiled his grimace-smile again. “My many apologies that she cannot join us. She is tending to my daughter.”

 

Ryan tensed himself. There had been no news that Stonesouth had had a child, at least not since he had been living in Raleiles. Even if it had been before, which was doubtful, his mother would have told him.

 

“That’s fine, I hope they are both well,” Gavin said. “I hope that these provisions are enough for yourself and your family, and I have brought some men and women who are willing to serve you.”

 

“I thank you,” Edgar said, though he didn’t sound it. “And I hope your travels back to Raleiles are of good fortune. I would offer you a place to stay, but I’m afraid that we simply cannot feed any extra people.”

 

“I must return to my throne anyway,” Gavin sounded relieved. “It was an honour to finally meet you.”

 

“The honour is all mine,” Edgar’s voice was sickly sweet, and alarm bells were ringing inside Ryan’s head. “There is a lordling house awaiting your arrival for the night before your departure.”

 

“Thank you, my lord,” Gavin bowed his head. “I will remember this kindness.”

 

“Anything for you,” Edgar bowed his head too. “I expect to see more of you.”

 

 _Not fucking likely._ Ryan thought. Gavin thought differently. “Agreed,” he said.

 

“My knight guard will see you out. I will see to it your men are rested well and introduced by nightfall. I will pass on any news,” Edgar’s voice had a definite note of finality to it. His knight guard appeared seemingly from nowhere, and escorted only Gavin, Jack and Ryan from the hall.

 

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Jack’s voice was soft. “But was that absolutely redundant?”

 

“I’d much rather a five minute discussion than to stay here,” Gavin replied, no longer sounding stern. He just sounded tired.

 

“The rumours were true,” Ryan said. “Edgar is the king in his hole of a kingdom.”

 

Gavin laughed, but Jack just rolled his eyes. “Keep your voice down,” he hissed.

 

“It is true, though,” Gavin pointed out, looping his arm through Jack’s. He seemed comfortable, despite the disapproving look he received from Edgar’s knight guard. “I’m looking forward to going back home, boys.”

 

“Let’s not come out here again,” Ryan whispered into Gavin’s ear. Gavin nodded, grinning.

 

“You won’t need to tell me twice,” he said. He thanked the knight guard when they gave the directions to the lordling’s house, and they continued alone. Gavin babbled aimlessly, asking about how much coin Ryan or Jack would take for a given scenario. Ryan knew this behaviour; he was anxious and didn’t want to talk about it.

 

The lordling’s house wasn’t exactly well kept when they arrived there. It overlooked two dilapidated houses, and the little grass that grew there was yellowed. A servant greeted them, but he looked like he was going to pass out on the spot. Gavin pressed coin into his hand and told him to go find a meal and to sleep.

 

“Well, it’s better than nothing,” Jack said, arms crossed. “I’ll go check on Dan and Mica, and get them to bring the horses back up here with them.”

 

“Sounds good,” Gavin said, wrapping his arms around himself. “Might catch a couple of kips, myself.”

 

“I’ll stay with you,” Ryan said immediately. Gavin nodded, looking at the ground. Jack didn’t say anything for a long moment.

 

“Okay,” he said, hesitantly. “I’ll be back soon.”

 

He closed the door behind him again, and Ryan walked over and opened a window. It faced another crumbling house. It was very quiet here, only the occasional cry of a raven or howl of a dog breaking the outside silence. Something in the house across moved, and Ryan tried to get a better look.

 

“I tried really hard, Rye,” Gavin said, still looking at the floor. Ryan looked back over to him, distracted from the movement.

 

He walked over. “You did good,” he said, smiling softly. He touched his shoulder, which Gavin leaned into. “You were powerful there.”

 

Gavin sighed heavily. “Didn’t feel like it, but thanks,” He looked up. “And thanks for standing by me. Felt right, having you there.”

 

“I’m not going to stay behind,” Ryan told him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the movement again, and the sunlight bounced off something bright. Something that was aimed directly at Gavin.

 

Without a word, Ryan pushed Gavin behind him, arm outstretched. The recognisable sound of an arrow being released seemed to scream through the silent air, and it came through the window. No thought went into Ryan’s actions. He lifted his other hand, summoning all the power he had within him and focused it on the arrow. The air rippled as the magic tore through him, stopping the arrow in midair. It hovered there, suspended by the magic. With a flex of his fingers, Ryan snapped the arrow in half and dropped it to the floor.

 

He walked over to the window, looking for the figure. He couldn’t see anything, but sent his power out anyway. He tried to focus on the weapon. It had to of been a crossbow; it was too steady for a bow. Sure enough, there was an abandoned crossbow in the other house, and Ryan summoned it to him.

 

He took it in his hands, and closed the window. He turned back to Gavin, and looked up at him. Gavin was gaping at him, face pale. Ryan put the crossbow down, and bit his lip. _Oh_.

 

“Ryan?” Gavin’s voice was so small. For a moment, Ryan was terrified. Magic was taboo in Cyflawniad. He’d risked enough practicing it, but actually using it in front of his king? He’d basically just signed his own death warrant. “What was that?”

 

“An assassination attempt, I believe,” Ryan kept his voice level. He stayed rooted on the spot. Gavin picked up the broken arrow, hands shaking.

  
“Why didn’t you tell me you practiced magic, Rye?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also found on tumblr: gaywood.tumblr.com
> 
> also, theres some crack fan art up there too if you wanna check that out :^)
> 
> to note: updates are now every second australian thursday. you can thank uni for that.


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